


A Privilege to Love You

by AliceLiddle



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant with the addition of soulmates, Carry On Sparks (Simon Snow), M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLiddle/pseuds/AliceLiddle
Summary: Obviously I know that Snow and Wellbelove aren’t soulmates, but by this point I had convinced myself that maybe this was just another cruel trick the world was playing on me. Maybe vampires get punished for being dark creatures by being matched with brave and beautiful boys who fall in love with pretty girls. Maybe I don’t have a soul at all, and instead my soulmark serves as a reminder that the one person I want most in the world is going to kill me some day. Or, worst of all, maybe my soulmark tells me exactly who my soulmate really is, and I have to live every day knowing that he’ll never love me back.I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to the news that Simon Snow is finally single, so I do what I always do when I’m flustered, I sneer. I raise an eyebrow too, just because I know it agitates Snow.“Bad day for true love then, isn’t it?”
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 21
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic runs parallel to the events of Carry On - everything is the same with the Visitings, the truce, and all the other events of Carry On, except this is also a universe where everyone has the first words they will hear their soulmate say written somewhere on their body. This fic was inspired by the prompt "watch", as given by Carry On Sparks.

**Simon**

_It would be a privilege to love you._ Those eight words have curled around my right bicep since I was nine years old. They’re written in fancy, looping script, and I can’t imagine any situation in which those words would be the first thing my soulmate says to me. I mean, who greets someone like that? Will I even know their name first, or will they just walk up to me on the street and start spouting off poetry? Maybe that’s how they say hello to every new person they meet, sort of hedging their bets so that their soulmate can have something nice written on them. It’s a good thought, I guess, but I don’t want to just get some generic greeting from the person who’s supposed to love me no matter what, I want to be special to them.

I haven’t shown my words to anyone in any of the care homes I’ve been in. The handwriting looks so posh, and the words are so mushy; I don’t want anyone to make fun of me. I don’t want to get beaten up because there’s a chance I’ll marry a rich person someday. Luckily, the cursive is easy to hide, even if I’m only wearing a t-shirt.

**Baz**

_Hi! I’m Simon Snow!_ Those four words have been the source of so many daydreams over the last two years, but I’m certain that when I fall asleep tonight I’ll be having nightmares instead. When my soulmark showed up the summer after I turned nine, I immediately started imagining what my soulmate would be like. I didn’t make too many guesses about what he might look like, but I spent countless hours imagining what he would be like, and the things we would do together. In my fantasies, Simon Snow and I did everything together, and anything I did in my life I imagined doing again with him once we met. When I went to see the new exhibit at the Victoria and Albert, I imagined him standing beside me and being just as excited as I was, pressing as close as we could to the glass cases. When I couldn’t decide what to get for lunch at the museum café I imagined him telling me that he would get whatever I didn’t, and we could share both the dishes. And when Fiona drove me home and played her music just a little too loudly, I imagined that Simon Snow and I would make faces at her together, and then sing along just as loud.

After today though, I hope I never meet Simon Snow. Father came home from the club and announced at dinner that the Mage had found a Normal boy with magic and was enrolling him in Watford to begin classes this fall. Father said that the Normal boy was clearly being groomed by the Mage for something, and would almost certainly have to be taken out somewhere along the way. As much as I detested the Mage, that did sound a little extreme, since we were talking about an eleven year old, but when I asked my father for more details, so I would be prepared to see him at school, my blood ran cold. My father told me that my new enemy was named Simon Snow.

**Simon**

I’m having a bit of a hard time believing that all of this magic stuff is real, even after a month of learning about it. The Mage changed my life when he came to get me from the remains of that care home, and I’m so glad that he took me away, especially because he brought me here. Watford is the nicest and most exciting place I’ve ever been, and I’m still having trouble taking everything in. It feels like every time I think I’m adjusting and getting used to the idea that magic is real, there’s something else bizarre and unexpected to make me think again.

Today, it’s the Crucible. I’ve been living in the Mage’s apartments since we left the care home, but tonight all the new students have arrived and I’m going to be matched with one of them and get my very own room! I’ll only have to share it with one other person! I’m not talking much, because I don’t really know what to say, and everyone else never shuts up, but I’m hoping that once I have a roommate I’ll be able to talk to him, and maybe he can answer a few of my questions.

When I feel a tugging sensation in my stomach I follow it immediately, and allow myself to be led over to a boy with dark hair and a high nose. He doesn’t look too friendly, but he might just be nervous (or he might just be posh, he’s wearing the most expensive watch I’ve ever seen). I haven’t spoken all afternoon, but since he seems too shy to make the first move I decide to finally say something. The pull in my gut is becoming unbearable anyway.

“Hi! I’m Simon Snow!” I stick out my hand and try to look friendly, but he just shakes it once before turning on his heel and walking off without a word.

At least I’ll still have a room of my own.

**Baz**

Every morning when I wake up I tell myself that I should be happier, that I should have some tiny speck of joie de vivre or _something_ , but no. It doesn’t matter that I get to study magic every day, that I have the best room with a private en suite, that I’m a star footballer and top of all my classes, or that my soulmate is the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. None of that matters, and I’m not happy, because my soulmate hates me.

Of course, Snow doesn’t know that he is my soulmate. From the moment I found out I was supposed to be fighting against him I began trying to plan what I would say when we met for the first time. I hadn’t come up with anything suitable by the time I was dropped off at Watford for the first time, so I decided to just stay silent. I’d seen my father command the respect of entire rooms just by staying silent and looking vaguely bored, so I attempted to do the same thing during my first week of school. However, I quickly realized that at some point I would have to speak up in class, and while I wasn’t terribly interested in collecting a gaggle of friends I found that I was lonely enough to want to speak to at least a few people, and so I came up with a new plan. I would simply say something to Snow while he was asleep. He’d never know the words on his soulmark came from me, and I could speak without fear of giving myself away.

I spent an entire day trying to figure out what I could possibly say to someone who I had dreamed about loving but was sentenced to fight, until I came upon the perfect phrase. When Snow fell asleep that night I stood beside his bed, watched as he puffed out breaths from between his slightly parted lips, and pictured his ordinary blue eyes looking into mine the day we met. I whispered as quietly as possible, and then tucked myself into bed, certain I’d done the best I could.

Unfortunately, the combination of our rocky start and the hatred the Mage instilled for my family in Snow meant that I’d spent the last seven years unhappy with my life. Things got even worse when I realized during fifth year that I was properly in love with him, not just infatuated with the idea of my soulmate, and when he seemed to hate me more than ever. I supposed I should be a little bit happier now, seeing as we’ve formed a tentative truce and have started being mostly civil with each other, but it’s almost worse to have a taste of what it would be like to live in a world where Simon and I don’t have to kill each other, knowing full well that our truce has an expiration date awaiting us.

**Simon**

I generally think of myself as a pretty happy person, but today I am most assuredly _not_. Agatha uninvited from her family’s Christmas this year, and the fact that I’m going to have to spend the holiday alone, coupled with the fact that I’m about to graduate and still haven’t found my soulmate means that I’m not in any sort of mood to deal with the snit Baz is currently throwing.

He seems to have woken up in a foul mood, and I think he might be currently cranky because of something to do with his hair – he keeps turning his head to look at it in the mirror and pulling on a few strands before smoothing it all back down again and sneering at me, as if his vanity is somehow my fault. We’re each reading a copy of _The Record_ , trying to find anything that might hint at a lead we could pursue in finding his mother’s killer, but between my distraction over my lack of holiday plans, and Baz’s own agitation over his hair or whatever, we’re not getting much done.

“Where is Bunce? She was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

I shrug, “I dunno, I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”

Baz huffs and turns back to his book. I’m just about to suggest doing something else – moving to the library, going for a walk, taking a break, anything to try and alleviate the angry tension in the room – when Penny finally bursts through the door.

Unfortunately, she’s not having a good day either.

Tears are streaming down her face, and I barely have time to toss _The Record_ aside before she flings herself down onto my bed and starts crying into my shirt.

“Penny! What’s wrong?” I don’t think she’s in immediate danger, she’s faced far too many creatures sent by the Humdrum to just start crying any time something goes wrong, but I notice that Baz has snatched up his wand from the bedside table and I feel just a little bit better. I awkwardly pat her on the back as she takes shaky breaths, and after a few moments where I think she’s trying to compose herself she finally sits up so that I can look at her. She’s an absolute wreck.

“Micah and I broke up!” she wails, and then starts crying even harder.

 _The American?_ Baz mouths, and I nod back.

“No, Pen, I’m so sorry. What happened?” I’m trying to pry her off of my shoulder; I don’t care if she gets snot on my shirt, but I don’t really know how to comfort people when they cry.

She sits back again and runs her fist under her nose. “We’re not soulmates!”

“Then why were you dating him in the first place?” I’m honestly shocked that Baz didn’t run from the room the second Penny came in crying, but I’m even more surprised to hear him sound genuinely concerned. Penny just turns to glare weakly at him.

“It’s the twenty-first century Basil, people can date people who aren’t their soulmates!” Her lip wobbles a bit, and her forehead wrinkles. “I thought he _was_ my soulmate though, we both did.”

“How didn’t you figure it out sooner then? Why were you wrong to begin with?”

I can’t believe Baz is asking that. Aren’t posh people supposed to be polite in the way that means they never ask about anything personal? It’s none of his business why it took Penny four years to realize that she wasn’t actually dating her soulmate (although I am a little curious to know how that happened, I had assumed that she and Micah would be together forever.)

“Piss off, Baz, leave her alone. It’s none of your business.”

Penny doesn’t seem to mind as much. She doesn’t let many people in, but I guess she’s decided that Baz is at the very least academically competent enough to be trusted with some personal information.

“We were in the White Chapel when we met, and it was so loud and echo-y that it was really hard to hear. We had been standing near each other talking to other people, and when we finally went to introduce ourselves we couldn’t really hear. We just assumed that our soulmarks were the first words we had overheard the other person saying without realizing it, but then- he-,” Her lip starts trembling again, and the tears come back as she cries, “He met his real soulmate!”

I pull her back into my shoulder and try to pat her back in a comforting manner. I don’t know what to say to help her, or how to make any of this better. Most people find their soulmates before they leave school, and Penny’s spent the last four years thinking that she knew exactly what her future would look like. It’s scary to graduate without a soulmate, but it’s scarier to realize you may have missed your real soulmate entirely while you were caught up with someone else. (That’s why Agatha broke up with me. She said she felt bad dating me when we both knew we weren’t destined to be together. I argued that I didn’t mind, and we’d known since the beginning that we weren’t soulmates. I think she was really just tired of being dragged along on missions from the Mage, and when I saw how tired she looked I stopped arguing with her and just agreed. Then she uninvited me from Christmas, and I regretted not fighting a bit more.)

“I’m really sorry, Bunce, you don’t deserve that. No one does, really, but certainly not you.”

Baz’s sincerity and unexpected kindness seems to jolt Penny out of her misery. She peers at him for a moment, and then whispers, “Thanks Basil.”

I feel like everything has gone a little topsy-turvy. All of Penny’s plans for after Watford have just been scrapped, and Baz is being _nice_. I need to figure out exactly what’s going on. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix everything.

“I thought that he had a really generic soulmark, is he sure that it’s not you?”

Penny wipes her eyes and sighs. “I guess. I mean, he would know for sure.”

“Well, what was it? Is it something that people say all the time?”

“I don’t know.” Her cheeks are turning pink. “Merlin, I was so stupid, he never told me and I never asked, he just said it was generic and I felt like it didn’t matter.”

Baz interrupts again. “You were together for _four years_ and he never told you what his soulmark said? Nicks and slick Penelope, he sounds like a right bastard.”

“You can’t just ask people what their soulmarks say!” Baz should know better.

“You can if you’re their soulmate!” he snipes back at me. “Besides, _you_ jus _t_ asked her what his soulmark said, you don’t have any room to talk.”

I huff and scowl at him because I don’t like when he’s right. (And it seems like he’s _always_ right, the tosser.)

Luckily, Penny is fairly progressive when it comes to soulmarks, and doesn’t mind being distracted from her own heartbreak by a debate.

“There shouldn’t be anything wrong with asking what someone’s soulmark says, the real problem is people assuming that just because they’re soulmates that everything will work out. Relationships take work, I didn’t think it mattered if I knew what Micah’s first words to me were because we spent so much time talking _after_ that. We wrote letters to each other almost every day, and we told each other everything, why should it have mattered what we said when we were strangers?”

“That is the most romantic way I’ve ever heard something as romantic as having a soulmate dismissed.” Baz’s face is inscrutable.

“But Penny, soulmarks have to mean something. I mean, they tell you who your soulmate is. You can’t just dismiss them!” I want to be supportive, I really do, but I can’t just let her give up on finding her soulmate because Micah turned out to be an arse.

She turns to look at me and I hate the pity I see. “Si, I’m not saying soulmates aren’t important, I’m just saying that happy relationships are more important.” That was definitely pointed at me, Pen has been not-so-subtly hinting at the fact that Agatha and I are a bad couple for ages.

“If you’re talking about me and Agatha, we broke up.”

**Baz**

Obviously I know that Snow and Wellbelove aren’t soulmates, but by this point I had convinced myself that maybe this was just another cruel trick the world was playing on me. Maybe vampires get punished for being dark creatures by being matched with brave and beautiful boys who fall in love with pretty girls. Maybe I don’t have a soul at all, and instead my soulmark serves as a reminder that the one person I want most in the world is going to kill me some day. Or, worst of all, maybe my soulmark tells me exactly who my soulmate really is, and I have to live every day knowing that he’ll never love me back.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to the news that Simon Snow is finally single, so I do what I always do when I’m flustered, I sneer. I raise an eyebrow too, just because I know it agitates Snow.

“Bad day for true love then, isn’t it?”

Surprisingly, he waves my comment off.

“Aggie and I weren’t soulmates, it wasn’t true love.”

I knew that, of course I did, but it seems that Bunce didn’t. It seems that despite their ‘no secrets pact’ Snow never told her that Wellbelove didn’t greet him with a flowery declaration of love. Either that, or she is far more dramatic than I’ve ever given her credit for.

“Really? You broke up? Are you alright?” Penelope Bunce is a fierce magician, and an even fiercer friend. Despite the fact that she was sobbing over her own breakup not even five minutes ago, she now seems entirely focused on Simon’s well-being.

“I’m fine Pen, really. It wasn’t working for us, you knew that, and Agatha said that she didn’t want to keep trying if we weren’t “it” for each other.”

“How long have you known?”

“That she broke up with me? She did it after breakfast, only a few hours, why?”

Penny rolls her eyes. “No, Simon, how long have you known that you weren’t soulmates?”

I’m trying to look like I’m not suddenly extremely invested in this conversation, but I’m hanging on to every word. I’m dying to hear how my soulmate will attempt to defend the pointless five-year disaster that was his relationship.

“Since the day we met.” He says it like it should be obvious, but since most people don’t date anyone other than their soulmate, I think Bunce can be forgiven for not guessing that. “She just said hi to me and asked to borrow a pen or something, and that’s not what my soulmark says.”

I think he may be trying not to blush; the tips of his ears are faintly pink and his freckles are disappearing the slightest bit, and I have never been more thankful to be deceased. I haven’t fed in almost twenty-four hours, and so neither Snow nor Bunce can tell that my cheeks are attempting to go crimson.

Penny is still staring at Simon as if he’s grown a second head, and I can tell she’s dying to ask what his soulmark actually says.

“Is it anything close? Did you think there was a chance you misheard her?”

No. Not even Snow could be that dense.

“No, but I’m pretty sure mine’s faulty or something anyway. It’s ridiculous, no one just says stuff like that, so I figured that it must have gotten it wrong. I mean, my magic is faulty and I’m the only Normal to get magic at all, or else I’m the only mage to be abandoned, so why wouldn’t my soulmark be messed up?”

Snow and I have roomed together with one primary rule governing all of our interactions: no vulnerability. We don’t change in front of each other, and even though he sleeps without a shirt most nights he keeps a band wrapped around his right bicep. I’ve always assumed that he was covering up the first words I ever said to him, but now I’m properly worried.

“You think your soulmark is faulty?” I can’t let on that I’m panicking.

“Yeah, I mean, there’s no way it’s the first thing my soulmate is going to say to me.”

“What is it, Simon?”

Thank Morgana for Penelope Bunce. She isn’t afraid to ignore social conventions when she wants answers, and if I wasn’t hopelessly queer and in love with my roommate I could kiss her for asking the question I suddenly need answered.

Simon scratches at his arm for a moment before starting to unbutton his shirt. He doesn’t take it all the way off, just extricates one arm when the buttons are halfway undone, and unwraps the band covering up handwriting that I am desperately hoping I’ll recognize. He may be attempting to keep the words on his skin a secret, but once again Penelope blazes past politeness and saves the remaining tatters of my sanity.

“ _It would be a privilege to love you_.” She sits back and looks awed. I feel faint with relief. “Simon, you- I’m jealous!”

He’s already wrapping his arm back up and cutting his eyes over to look for my reaction, I school my features neutral.

“What are you jealous of? No one just says that to someone they don’t know, I have a faulty soulmark.” He shoves his arm back into its sleeve and begins covering up the freckles on his chest again.

“You don’t know that! You could have the most romantic soulmark of all time! Think about it! Maybe your soulmate has already heard about you by the time that you meet, and maybe they somehow know that you’re their soulmate too – they could spend years waiting to meet you and tell you that they love you! Even if soulmarks are blown wildly out of proportion by the media and aren’t half as romantic as people want them to be, yours is still better than literally any soulmark I’ve ever heard of!”

Penelope’s eyes are bright, and for someone who just learned that she wouldn’t be getting married to a nerdy American after graduation she seems remarkably pleased with the idea that her best friend is going to find true love. For my part, I’m just trying not to preen – of course Simon’s soulmark is perfect, I wouldn’t let him have anything less!

**Simon**

I didn’t really want to tell Penny about breaking up with Agatha and my faulty soulmark in the midst of her own breakup, but I feel so much better now. I’m still not fully convinced that my soulmark isn’t messed up, but at least there’s a chance that I’ll have a really happy ending if I somehow live past this year.

Unfortunately, Baz is now also aware of how sappy my soulmate is, and I don’t trust him not to be a dick about it. I need to get us back on even footing.

“What’s your soulmark say?” Penny starts to admonish me, but I ignore her. “C’mon Baz, you heard what mine is. We’re on truce. Tell me what yours says.”

He looks like he can’t decide between glaring at me and telling me that I’m an extra special idiot.

“No. Besides, this truce is temporary. I don’t have to tell you anything, especially if you could go around telling everyone as soon as we’re done.”

“But you could do the same for me!” This is exactly what I was afraid of, and he’s clearly already thought of it.

“That’s too bad. I’m not telling you.”

Penny’s head is swiveling like she’s watching a tennis match. I don’t think she’d ever admit it, but I bet she’s just the tiniest bit curious to know what Baz’s soulmark says too. Can vampires even have soulmarks? Do they have souls? Baz probably does, he’s magic, he has to have a soul.

“What about mutually assured destruction? I’ll trust you not to tell anyone what my soulmark says because if you do then I’ll tell everyone about yours. Deal?”

He rolls his eyes then readjusts his watch. “No, Snow, don’t be a moron. I’m not telling you what mine says. I’m not going to agree to a pact of mutually assured destruction when I currently have nothing to lose.”

“Do you already know who your soulmate is then? Did they reject you or something?” He glares at me and doesn’t respond. “I could just break down the door while you’re in the shower or something.”

“What is wrong with you?” Baz shouts, at the same time that Penny smacks my arm and yells, “Simon!”

“I’m not going to, I’m just saying that I could! Just tell me what it says and I’ll drop it. I won’t bring it up again, I promise.”

Baz sighs, and I think I might have won, but he only says, “I’m not going to tell you what it says, because it’s a standard introduction. With a name.”

He looks almost pained to admit it, but I’m just confused.

“If you know their name, why aren’t you already together? Haven’t you met them yet? Have you searched for them online? They’re probably a mage, right? So they can’t be that hard to find.”

“Simon,” Penny is tugging on my arm now, “just let it go. Baz doesn’t have to tell you anything, you’re not being fair.”

“But he knows what mine says! And besides, we can help!” I look back at Baz, this time properly excited. “We can make it part of the truce! Closure and a new beginning, yeah? I’ll help you find who killed your mum, and then I’ll help you find your soulmate so that you can live happily ever after or whatever.”

Baz looks less than impressed with my idea.

“Is that what you want? Really? To track down my soulmate so that we can ride off into the sunset together after avenging my mother’s murder? Do you also want my help in tracking down your own soulmate?” He’s openly sneering at this point, and even though I know he’s not seriously offering, I suddenly realize that I really do want to do all of that.

“Yeah, let’s do that. We’ll find a killer, and soulmates, and defeat the Humdrum, and live happily ever after, why not?”

He sighs again. “Fine. We’ll find my mother’s killer, then defeat the Humdrum, and if we’re both still alive and still on a truce then we can discuss the possibility of finding our soulmates. In the meantime, I’ll be spelling the bathroom door locked when I shower.”

“Deal.”

I shake his hand and Penny shakes her head. “How the two of you ever managed to get this far is beyond me.”

Then she pulls out her wand and draws the now-familiar columns in the air: _What We Know_ and _What We Don’t Know_.

**Penny**

Everything should feel hopeless right now, since every plan I had for my future was completely destroyed a few hours ago, but this is really helping. I’m at my best when I have a plan, and while I don’t currently know what I’m going to do about finding my soulmate (someone who will apparently tell me _Wow, that’s incredible!_ ), we do now have a plan to figure out who killed Baz’s mum. It’s not a particularly exciting plan (Baz and I will go through the books our families have and I’ll subtly ask my parents about Nicodemus), but it at least gives me something to focus on and something to _do_.

Simon seems a little frustrated with how tame our plans are right now, but I think he might also be frustrated because of Agatha. I’m glad that they broke up, they were a horrible couple and much better off as friends, but he’s probably having his own panic over his soulmate right now. Unfortunately, Simon isn’t very good at focusing on himself, so when something is getting to him he’s far more likely to focus on something just off-center of what his problem actually is. I feel bad for Baz, because I’m certain that Simon is about to become fixated on Baz’s soulmark in order to avoid thinking about his own. I also feel bad for me, because I’m the one Simon will complain to about it, and I don’t think he’ll let me reduce his Baz quota any more.

**Simon**

Watford is so boring without anyone else around. I feel like I’ve spent an eternity reading copies of _The Record_ , and if I take another break to stomp through the forest or swing my sword at the trees I think the dryads might change their minds about being pacifists. It’s such a relief to see Ebb, and even more of a relief to finally have a lead on Nicodemus. By the time I’m trudging through the snow to Baz’s house I’m feeling better than I have all week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely ignoring the events of Wayward Son, Simon has been going to therapy consistently.

_Eleven Months Later_

**Baz**

Simon Snow is a wreck. A lovely, brave, inconsolable wreck. There have been a few good days since Christmas, but most of the days have been bad. My Leaver’s Ball, that was a good day. The day Snow and Bunce moved into their new apartment was another good day. There was a day in early September where Simon danced around the flat, smiling more than I had seen in ages, and then he kissed me and kept smiling – that was a _wonderful_ day. But most days aren’t like that. Most days are like today.

Simon Snow is lying on the sofa, face turned into the back cushions, wings wilting over the seat. He’s always like this after talking with his therapist; I know it’s helping him little by little, but seeing him immediately afterwards makes me question if it’s worth it. He takes three steps forward with the help of his therapist, but seems to immediately fall at least one step back after every appointment. It’s progress, but it’s painful. I’ve been letting myself into Snow and Bunce’s flat right before his sessions end each week, so that when he comes out of his room I’ll be the first person he sees. Sometimes I think my presence might help him, sometimes he’ll collapse into my arms and spend hours curled around me on the sofa, but sometimes he doesn’t acknowledge anything around him and lies just like he is now.

“Hello, love.” He doesn’t stir. I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m not sure if that would help him today. I take my cues from him when he’s like this, it’s like dealing with a frightened animal; no sudden movements, let them come to you first, etc.

“I’m going to get some tea, do you want anything else?”

A shrug is all I get in response. That’s alright, I’ve become fluent in shrugs over the past year (over the past nine years, really). Right now, a shrug means that if I bring out food at least some of it will be eaten. I plate up five scones and put butter on two of them. He’s more likely to eat if it seems like I’m going to eat too, and if it doesn’t seem like I’m expecting him to eat like he used to at Watford. I’ll bring out the butter dish in hopes that he’ll want the rest.

I set the tea and scones on the coffee table and settle into the armchair beside him to read. I’ve taken to reading on my phone during times like these, as for some reason he’s more willing to talk if he thinks I’m playing on my phone than if I’m holding a book. It works. After about fifteen minutes he turns over and looks at me. He looks tired, and sad, and empty, but he’s looking at me and giving me a chance to change that.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice is raw and cracking, I suspect he was crying earlier, but at least he’s talking to me. I give him a small smile and I’m rewarded with a slight shift in his posture. One of his hands unfurls, and he pulls himself up just a bit – I can hold his hand and join him on the sofa if I want. Of course I want.

His hand is almost too warm in my own, but I never let go when he offers. Eventually, he drags himself up against my side in a series of wiggles until his head is tipped onto my shoulder. I bury my face in his tangled curls and wish for the millionth time that I could just let him leech whatever he needs straight from my soul so that he could feel alright.

“How are you, love?” We’re not usually quite so soft with each other, he’s told me that he likes my snark, but in times like this I can’t be anything other than gentle with him.

Another shrug. I squeeze his hand in response.

“Did your appointment go well?” I don’t usually ask, but I want to give him an opening to talk in case he’s waiting for one. (I always want to hear what he has to say, what he thinks, but I know he doesn’t always believe that.)

He shrugs yet again, and I think that’s all I’m going to get (that’s fine, he’s leaning into me and holding my hand, I already have more than I ever thought I would get), but then his entire body tenses for a moment, and he presses his face into my shoulder a little more.

“We talked about soulmates.”

I’m instantly awash in fear. Simon and I haven’t talked about soulmates since we left Watford for Christmas break almost a year ago. I wanted to bring it up after he said he wanted to be my terrible boyfriend, but everything was still so fresh and I didn’t want to ruin anything. So, I waited, and forty-eight hours later Simon had experienced too much trauma for me to even consider broaching the topic. And then – well, there just wasn’t a good time. I’ve also been a coward. I don’t want to scare him off, or face his rejection if he doesn’t believe me, or if he doesn’t want me. Our relationship hasn’t developed in a normal way, and so much of who we are together is tied into collective trauma that I was hoping we could share some positive formative experiences before talking about being soulmates. But apparently not.

“Oh? How did that go?” I’m trying to keep my voice steady, but I falter in the circles I’ve been rubbing into his thumb.

He presses his face into the place where my shoulder meets my neck and takes a deep breath, and I press a kiss to his head while I still can, just in case. Then he pulls back, and his face is set. He’s ready for a fight.

“Baz, I- I don’t- We- “ I squeeze his hand, silently begging for him to stay, to not leave me. “We had a deal.”

“A deal?” I have no clue what he’s talking about, but my heart is hammering so hard inside my ribcage that it’s drowning out any attempt at thinking I could manage.

“Yeah. Remember? You said that we would figure out who killed your mum, we’d deal with the Humdrum, and then we’d find our soulmates. We shook on it.”

Oh, right. That deal.

“Is that what you want to do, Simon?”

I don’t know what to do, should I tell him everything right now, should I wait for him to respond, should I let him break my heart, should I break my own and suffer his rejection? I’m panicking, and trying not to because I don’t want to worry him, but I’m worried that I’ll fall to pieces before he’s done needing me.

He just _shrugs_ , and I love him, but I need something more right now, I need _words_ , and I need him to _stay_.

“I dunno.” He breaks eye contact, and it’s a relief because I don’t have to hold myself quite so still anymore, but it’s terrifying because what if I’m losing him? Then he squeezes my hand, hard, and I feel a little bit better. Maybe he’s fighting for us, instead of against us. “I told my therapist that I felt bad, because I have a soulmate somewhere out there who might be waiting for me, but that I don’t want them.” I’ve gone entirely numb, I don’t know what to say. Simon keeps talking though, so I don’t have to. “I don’t want my soulmate to have to put up with – this –“ another shrug to indicate his disheveled state, and then his lower lip starts to tremble, “and, I, I, I don’t want anyone who isn’t you!”

He’s crying freely now, and I pull him into my chest and try not to grin like a lunatic. We haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, something that I suspect is connected to the conversation we’re having right now, but this is even better than an open declaration of love. Somehow, despite being undead, relentlessly cruel for so many years, and a poor substitute for all the love Simon should have experienced in his life, he’s choosing me above anything else. I feel like I’m soaring, and the only thing tethering me to the earth is the fact that my boyfriend is still sobbing into my shirt.

“Shh, love, you’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” I’m carding one hand through his hair and pressing him closer to me with the other hand rubbing circles on his back.

He takes a couple of gasping breaths and pulls back to talk again. “But you deserve better, and you have a soulmate who isn’t- who isn’t- who isn’t _me_.”

I love him so much.

“No, I don’t.”

I love how his eyebrows smush together and change one of the constellations on his forehead.

“Yes, you do.”

I love how he pouts and definitely doesn’t realize that he’s doing it.

“I assure you, I don’t.”

I love his ordinary blue eyes and the righteous indignation in them when he’s trying to protect the people he cares about.

“You do Baz, literally everyone does.”

I love when he fights, even when he’s fighting me.

“Not me.”

I love how tightly he holds my hands when he’s not thinking about it.

“Baz, I swear to Crowley, if this is about you being a vampire and thinking that you don’t have a soul, I will-“

I love him, full stop.

“Simon, love, that’s not it. You’re wrong.” His face is still in an angry pout, and he makes a huffing noise. “You said that I have a soulmate, and that soulmate isn’t you, but you’re wrong.”

He sniffles and looks unbearably confused, but I think that his tears have at least stopped.

“Baz, I want you to be my soulmate, but you can’t be. You’ve never said,” he gestures at his right bicep with our joined hands, “y’know. To me.”

I move one of my hands and wipe an errant tear from his freckled cheek with my thumb, keeping my palm around his face and forcing him to keep looking at me.

“When I got my soulmark I was nine years old, and it felt like everything else in my life was going wrong. I had already lost my mother and my soul,” I can tell he wants to interrupt me to argue again, so I tuck a curl behind his ear and keep talking over him. We’ve had this argument enough and he should know by now that I’m starting to believe him, “and my father was getting remarried. It felt like everything I knew was ruined, and then one morning I woke up and discovered that I knew the name of the person who was going to love me, no matter what. I found it on my wrist, in the worst handwriting I had ever seen.”

I can tell that he doesn’t believe I’m talking about him yet, but he still gives me a watery little smile. I love him.

“I didn’t tell my parents that I knew who my soulmate was, but every day I imagined what it would be like if he was there with me. I spent two years waiting to meet him, only for my father to come home from the club and tell me that when I started school there was one student I wasn’t to trust at all, and of course that was the boy I’d already fallen in love with.”

I give his hand a small squeeze because I love him. If he doesn’t know it by now, I’ll make sure he knows by the end of this conversation. I love him.

“So, I spent the better part of two months trying to figure out what I would say when I met my soulmate-turned-mortal-enemy, but when I finally met you I still couldn’t think of the right words. Even if we would never be together properly I wanted you to know that you were loved, and to have something lovely on your skin. So even though you immediately shook my hand, introduced yourself, and confirmed that you were indeed my soulmate, I didn’t say anything because I was scared of revealing myself and I didn’t feel ready. I waited until you were asleep a few days later, when I’d figured out the right words, and then I told you what I should have been telling you every single day since.”

There are tears streaming down his face.

“Simon. I love you. And it would be a privilege to love you, every day for the rest of your life.”

**Simon**

I’m crying, but I can’t help it. I love him too, so much, and I want him to know that but I can’t find the words. So instead of talking I do the one thing that’s always seemed to work out for me. I bring our faces together, thread my fingers through his hair, and I kiss him. I don’t think this could be considered a good kiss; it’s wet and salty because I’ve been crying (and Baz is starting to cry a little too), and we’re both smiling a bit too much for our lips to move together at all, but I think this is the best kiss we’ve had in a while, maybe ever, because it finally feels like we’ve solved the only problem that really mattered, and this feels so permanent, in a way that doesn’t scare me.

When we finally pull back to breathe and just smile at each other I still don’t know what to say, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

“Your handwriting is stupidly posh.”

Baz laughs, head thrown back with complete abandon.

“Only the best for you, my love.” He kisses me quickly, and then pulls back again. “Besides, one of us has to have neat handwriting. Have you seen your penmanship recently?”

Before I can answer he’s sitting back and starting to take off his watch.

His _watch_.

I spent hours trying to guess where his soulmark might be, but I never even considered that he’s been hiding it under the watch that he wears _every single day_. (I thought it was just a rich person accessory).

When the band falls away from his wrist, I can see my own horrific handwriting etching a bracelet onto his arm. _Hi! I’m Simon Snow!_

I believed him when he said that he loved me, but now I feel dizzy with relief.

“Baz,” I breathe, “It’s- You- I- We’re actually-“

He cuts me off with a raised eyebrow. “Well said, Snow.” _Prick_.

“Shut up, you wanker, I’m trying to tell you that I love you too.” Well, I suppose that’s one way to say it.

Baz almost glows; I thought that he looked happy a moment ago, but now he looks positively elated. He takes my hands in his again for a moment before moving them to cradle my head, and this time when we start kissing, we don’t break apart for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't guess it, Penny's soulmate is Shep


End file.
